Where Angels Fear to Tread
by Sir Thopas
Summary: In 1944, at the age of eighteen, Minerva McGonagall wrote her treatise on magical theory. This theory almost destroys the entire foundation of the Wizarding World.
1. Chapter 1

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 1_

With a crack Minerva appeared inside the laboratory.

Glancing around at Robert's research and experiments Minerva couldn't help but be struck once again by how _Muggle_ everything was. She supposed that she had thought there would be at least a _little_ magic, despite Robert's own lack of abilities, but there was nothing there that Minerva recognized.

She came to a safe that held Robert's creations. He had taken all the precautions to protect his work from dubious colleagues and Muggle thieves, but never did he suspect _her_ of duplicity. A Muggle safe was nothing to her. A quick _Alohomora_ and its contents were laid bare. It was an odd-looking Muggle device. Minerva had seen guns before and thought it looked rather much like one of those. It had a muzzle and a trigger, but it gleamed white and there were different colored wires coming out of it in every which way. Minerva picked up the device, feeling the weight of it in her hands. It was heavy and unwieldy. Completely impractical for daily use, but given time she was sure Robert would be able to refine his invention. Minerva positioned the gun in her arms, the back cradled against her elbow as she took aim at a chair. She squeezed the trigger and a beam of purple light – straighter and smoother than anything a wand could produce – emitted from the nozzle, engulfing the chair. In a second, the chair was gone. Vanished.

_Evanesco_.

The Wizarding World did not have an army. There simply was not enough witches and wizards to make one. Most countries barely had enough Aurors to keep the civil peace, let alone start international wars. Certain wizard terrorists notwithstanding, of course. Minerva couldn't imagine the devastation a device like this would cause in the hands of millions of people, in the hands of soldiers. There were some days where she wasn't even sure if the Wizarding World should have this sort of power.

Minerva sighed as she regarded the device. Robert had told her about the books he read as a child, of Muggle heroes going into space and fighting aliens with weapons similar to this. _Disintegration Ray_ he had called it. He had envisioned this bright new future for Muggles and he said he had her to thank for it. He had _thanked her_! And now she was here to destroy it.

Along with the gun there were plans and notebooks and blueprints of other inventions he had come up with, all based on the magic she had shown him. All based on her own Transfiguration theories. With a casual flick of her wand, the gun and all of his research was gone as though they had never existed.

Another crack and Minerva was gone as well.

* * *

><p>It was in the early morning hours when Minerva silently entered old Blackmore Castle. The castle had belonged to the McGonagall family for centuries. Yet, for some reason, it no longer felt like home to her. It hadn't for years.<p>

Suddenly there was the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor and the tinkling of breaking china. Minerva turned to see Tini, the house-elf, hastily reaching down to pick up the broken tea service. "Oh, Miss Minerva!" She called out, frantically looking between Minerva and the broken cups. "You're back! Oh! I was just about to send up Master's breakfast! But you're back! Oh! My Mistress!" Tears welled up in the poor creature's eyes. "Oh! She's been so very, very worried about you, Miss Minerva!"

"There is no cause for worry, Tini," Minerva commanded. "I am going to my room to rest."

"Yes! Yes!" Tini agreed, frantically nodding her head and making little 'shooing' gestures with her hands. "You must rest! Oh! I need to tell my Mistress!"

Minerva ignored the hysterical little creature and began her journey up the winding staircase. Everything looked exactly the same as it had been. Had she really been gone for only a few months? She had just been in Edinburgh, and yet it could have been on the other side of the planet.

Minerva's hand slid up the dark wood banister. She remembered playing on the staircase as a child, straddling the banister in an attempt to slide down it. It never worked out very well, if she remembered correctly. There was either too much traction or not enough and she would be flying downwards. Then, there was the fact that the banister curved. She never could stay on when she reached the curve. She remembered one time she tumbled down from the very top and cracked her skull. Her mother had been frantic, shoving potions down her mouth as she scolded her on proper ladylike behavior. Of course Minerva was back on the banister the next day.

Her mother had dedicated her life to ensuring that Minerva acted and behaved like a proper Pureblood witch. She instilled within her daughter all of the etiquette and fine manners that was expected of her. Minerva had always laughed at her mother's silly notions on good behavior. Merely a few years ago, Minerva had fancied herself to be quite the rebel. She hadn't realized just how old-fashioned and proper she was until she went out into the Muggle World. She smiled a little to herself as she felt an embarrassed blush spread across her cheeks as she remembered the way she reacted when she saw those Muggle girls in their knee-length skirts for the first time. It was scandalous!

The smile faded instantly as she passed by William's room. She couldn't help the little shiver. The air around his door always seemed so cold.

Minerva sighed as she reached the end of the hall where her own room lay. She pushed open the dark wooden door. It was exactly the same. Her white carved bed, the floral pink wallpaper, the rows of delicate porcelain dolls that waved to her in joy as she entered. It was the perfect room for a little girl.

Minerva allowed her cloak to fall to the floor and she slipped out of her robes, leaving her standing there in only her thin camisole, brassiere, and bloomers. She hadn't worn a corset in years. With a shiver Minerva crawled into her old bed, pulling the covers over her tall frame. She didn't bother to light the fireplace. She wanted to be alone in the dark.

"Minerva!"

Minerva blearily opened her eyes and sat up. Her mother stood in the doorway, hand over her mouth as she looked at her wayward daughter. She looked so much older than Minerva remembered. It had only been a few months! How could she have aged this much? Georgiana McGonagall was locked in shock, her hair a mess, her robe hastily thrown over her shoulders. It only took a second for the shock to wear off and suddenly Georgiana was there on her bed, enveloping her daughter in a tight hug. "My girl, my little girl," she sobbed. "What have you done?"

Minerva clutched her mother's shoulders as this beautiful, delicate-looking woman cried out to her in her thick brogue. They stayed like that for several minutes until a soft cough tore their attention away from each other.

They turned to see Tini standing there, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "They're here for you, Miss Minerva," she whispered. "The Aurors. They've come to arrest you."

Georgiana clutched her daughter tighter. "What should we do?" She asked fearfully.

Tini put her hands on her hips as a determined look passed over her pointed features. "There is an escape route down in the-"

"No," Minerva commanded. "I'll go."

For a moment Georgiana just pulled Minerva tighter to her body before reluctantly letting her go. "Yes, yes, of course," she whispered. "Let's go. No! Wait! We need to get dressed! Tini, let them wait in the parlor."

In an instant Tini was gone. Georgiana hurriedly rushed to he own bedroom and Minerva got dressed. She had just finished buttoning her robe when a knock came at her door and her father and mother were standing there. Her father Julius hadn't bothered to dress. He was standing there grim-faced in his nightclothes. Georgiana looked just as impeccable and beautiful as she always did and Minerva wondered not for the first time how she managed to do that in a matter of seconds.

Then they were heading down the stairs with Minerva leading the way.

There were two stony-faced Aurors waiting for them in the parlor. Tini stood in the corner, glaring at them. "Minerva McGonagall?" One of them demanded in his gruff voice. Minerva nodded and stood in front of him. "You are charged with openly admitting and demonstrating magic to Muggles, spreading dangerous and slanderous ideas to both the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds, and endangering the entire Wizarding World with your actions. I am to take you to the Ministry of Magic where you are to be tried for your crimes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 2_

Minerva sat alone, staring up into the stern, unmoving faces of the Wizengamot.

It was all so intimidating. Minerva was nervous and unsure of what she should do. She had no one to turn to. Everywhere she looked there was another scowling face staring down at her, damning her for her opinions and thoughts and beliefs. She was… frightened, she would admit it. It was strange; she had never been truly afraid before. If only her mother's friends could see her now! They would feel positively vindicated. She remembered her mother's friends: the high-class and beautiful Pureblood witches who would come around for tea and lunch every couple of days. They were always so exasperated by Minerva's stubborn and tomboyish ways – although none more so than her own mother – and would often advise her by saying, "Minerva, dear, you're a very willful girl and boys just do not know how to handle that."

How that used to rile Minerva up! As if _she_ would ever allow a man to _handle_ her! Of course, those ladies have probably heard all about the trial by now. Tomorrow afternoon they would be sitting in some parlor lamenting Minerva's fate in a tone that would hint at the malicious glee they truly felt. "Poor Georgiana," they would sigh. "To have such a daughter. We did try to warn Minerva, did we not? But no, little Minerva McGonagall always insisted on learning everything the hard way. And now look at what has happened!"

Minerva continued to helplessly scan the sea of faces surrounding her, her despair growing by the minute until her eyes landed upon a very familiar face. She could recognize the graying beard and the brilliant blue eyes anywhere. Albus Dumbledore gave her a soft, encouraging smile when she saw him and Minerva smiled back weakly.

"Please state your name for the record," the Chief Warlock commanded.

"Minerva McGonagall." Minerva cringed with a flush of embarrassment at how her voice trembled.

"On May 30, 1944 you published an article in _Transfiguration Journal_ called 'The Atom: Proof of the Link Between Science and Magic.'" The tall, imposing wizard fixed Minerva with a hard glare. "In it you claimed that with the…" Here the wizard paused and looked down at his parchment with an intent gaze, sounding out the strange Muggle word for the first time. "Tek-nol-o-gee of Muggles was rapidly advancing to a point where Muggles would be able to simulate magic and perhaps even surpass us in terms of power."

There was a lot of mumbling at this point, but Dumbledore kept his soft gaze fixed on his former student.

The head wizard waved his hand towards Minerva, mockingly. "Please, enlighten us as to how you think this could possibly happen."

Minerva took a deep breath as a feeling of calmness spread over her. She knew her work. It was flawless. "I can only speak at length on Transfiguration, as it is my own particular field of study," Minerva stated. "But, to begin with, through science Muggles have discovered that all things – animate and inanimate – are made up of atoms. These atoms combine to form molecules. The combination of certain atoms creates certain things. For example, one molecule of water consists of two hydrogen atoms attached to one oxygen atom. When we use the spell _Aguamenti_ we use our own bodies to channel a… a magnetic force, if you will. We pull free-floating atoms and bind them to create water. We've been so unaware of the physical properties of the universe because this sort of thing comes naturally to us, but the Muggles have experimented and observed. They've broken down the universe to its smallest unit and are _experimenting_."

The entire Wizengamot was silent at the end of her speech. _How daunting it must be for them_, Minerva thought. Even for those who didn't believe in all that Pureblood supremacy, it was terrifying to know that what made you special – what made you a _wizard_ or a _witch_ – would one day mean nothing. The Muggle World had its place and the Wizarding World theirs, but Minerva could see that one day those lines would begin to blur and cross. And that was downright frightening for some people.

Suddenly someone coughed. In the silent room the sound was nearly deafening.

Everyone turned to look at Dumbledore as he cleared his throat. He seemed amused by all the attention. "Although not everyone may agree with Miss McGonagall's theories, I was not aware that having an opinion was now illegal."

The Chief Warlock shot Dumbledore with a look. "It is if it proves _dangerous_. Not to mention she has been charged with exposing our secrets to the Muggle World and that _is_ illegal."

"Well, let's start with the beginning," a plump witch declared. She looked down at the young girl seated before the court with a sympathetic gaze. "Tell us: how did you first come into contact with Muggle science?"

Minerva remembered that quite well and, ironically enough, her first contact with the Muggle World came about because of _wizards_.

It was the summer of 1937 when Minerva received her invitation to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It hadn't been unexpected. She'd been anxiously awaiting for her letter since the first day of summer. She couldn't wait to leave. The old castle was always so cold. It was like she could still feel _him_.

She was having breakfast with her parents. Her mother was impeccably dressed as usual; her hair tied up into an elegant chignon. She moved her spoon so fastidiously, cautious of spilling even a drop. Her father was dressed as well, though unshaven and his hair still wild from sleeping on it. Nobody said anything. Nobody looked at each other.

It had always been like that ever since her brother William had died. Minerva supposed that they had once been a happy family that talked to each other and asked about their day but she couldn't remember that far back. As far as she was concerned the silent rooms and distant relationships were normal. Minerva was well aware that no matter how many years went by William would always be in the forefront of her mother and father's thoughts. William had passed on; he wasn't ghost, there was no haunting, but there might as well be. His memory still followed them wherever they went, turning his family into virtual strangers.

Then, suddenly, a letter dropped from the sky into Minerva's porridge. Minerva crowed in delight and went to snatch it up, but her mother, quick as lightening, daintily picked it up and wiped the envelope with the edge of her napkin. "Sit down, Minerva," she chastised. "And sit up straight. Slouching will give you a hunch like your Aunt Cressida and you don't want to be an old spinster like her, now do you?"

Minerva huffed and crossed her arms as she watched her mother wave her wand over the envelope, pulling out the letter.

"Don't cross your arms like that, it's not ladylike," Georgiana stated without bothering to look up. Minerva scowled. Somehow her mother just always _knew _when she wasn't being 'ladylike' even without looking. "Ah, now, here is what it says: 'Dear Miss McGonagall, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. Note that changes have been made regarding to the transportation of students." At this Georgiana shared a significant look with her husband Julius. "Carriages will no longer be provided for students without means of travel. Instead, students are required to board the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross station in London."

"London?" Minerva leaned forward excitedly. "I get to go to London?" She had never even travelled farther than the surrounding Scottish countryside before.

Her parents ignored her. "Hogwarts Express? What is that?" Her father demanded. "A station for what?"

"Flying carpets maybe?"

It wasn't a station for flying carpets. Georgiana clutched her daughter's hand tightly in her own as they made their way through the Muggle building. Minerva bounced excitedly on her heels as she stared at all the strangely dressed people, gaping with her mouth open at the Muggle girls flashing their calves in their slinky dresses. There was no way that they were wearing petticoats underneath those skirts. "Stop staring," her mother commanded as her eyes darted nervously from Muggle to Muggle. "And close your mouth. We don't want to attract attention. Who knows what might happen!"

Minerva suspected that they were already attracting quite a lot of attention, but she refrained from telling her mother that.

Julius came to a stop at the divide between Platforms 9 and 10. He gestured for the women to go first before following after them. He crashed straight into his wife's bustle as he realized that his wife and daughter were standing stock still, staring wide-eyed at the red mechanical behemoth before them. Blazoned across its metal side were the words 'Hogwarts Express.'

"What is that thing?" Georgiana gasped.

"It's a _train_," came the voice of a blonde girl trying to squeeze past the McGonagalls, who remained blocking the portal. The girl rolled her eyes as she pushed her trunk past Georgiana's voluminous Victorian dress.

"We should probably hurry, Georgie," Julius said, taking his wife gently by the elbow, trying to lead her and his daughter towards the Muggle contraption.

Georgiana barely seemed to notice her husband's presence. She slowly shook her head, her eyes riveted to the monstrosity.

"Georgie…"

"No!" Georgiana gasped. "I will _not_ allow our daughter on that thing! It's… it's _Muggle_ whatever it is! It's unsafe! How… How does that thing even _move_?"

"I'm sure they've enchanted-"

"No!" Georgiana declared again while trying to herd Minerva back through the divide. "I will now allow it! She could be _killed_!"

At once Julius grew quiet and pale, nodding in assent to his wife's hysterics. Minerva was their only remaining child left. They had to keep her safe by any means necessary. "Alright, we'll take her to Hogwarts ourselves."

Minerva pouted and planted her feet into the ground, forcing her mother to push her through the divide. "But I want to ride the train!" Minerva cried out. She found the strange Muggle thing absolutely fascinating. She wondered what it looked like on the inside. Her mother barely even registered Minerva's protests. Minerva sulked as she was pulled from the station. _It's all William's fault_, Minerva thought bitterly. _If he hadn't died then Mother wouldn't be so over-protective. He's dead! Why does he have to keep ruining everything?_

Every year Minerva would continue to plead with her parents to let her ride the Hogwarts Express and every year they would refuse. Julius and Georgiana were hardly unique in this; the vast majority of Pureblood families refused to allow their children onto the train and were outraged by this sudden change, despite the practicality of it. There seemed to be more and more Muggleborns every year and they needed a way to get to Hogwarts that wouldn't look suspicious to Muggles. But the Purebloods didn't care. All they knew was that it was something _different_. The more Muggleborns that came to Hogwarts the more they perverted the Wizarding culture with their Muggle ideas and contraptions. It wasn't until after Hogwarts that Minerva experienced her first train ride with Robert on a real Muggle train.

He had sat next to her, despite the fact that they were the only ones in the carriage. "Excited?" He had asked.

Minerva turned away from the window where she had been watching the passing scenery to smile at him. A broom was faster, but the train was just so strange and new.

Robert returned her smile and took her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note – I'd like to say thank you to Ember Nickel for taking the time to review. It was much appreciated.

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 3_

Minerva gripped her broom tightly with her small hands, safe in the knowledge that her father was there flying right beside her. Her hands looked so small; they were like a doll's hands. In a sudden moment of clarity Minerva realized that she was dreaming, although it didn't really matter.

"You can fly faster than that, Minerva," Her father gently chided.

Minerva nodded her head and pushed herself forward. She flew as fast as she could, but it still seemed too slow. They flew over the Scottish countryside, over the fields and gardens that had been her home for years. They came to the lake. That awful lake.

Minerva tried to turn around, but couldn't. She turned to her father for help, but he was gone.

There was something coming out of the water! Minerva gasped as she stepped back, her shoes sticking to the mud. Her broom had disappeared. Where did it go? She knew she had been flying just a little while ago. She needed to get away. She needed to run, but no matter how hard she tried her feet stayed rooted to the ground. The mud kept her chained to the spot.

The creature dragged its body from the still waters. The flesh on its head and armless torso had been burned away. It was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman. The only clue was its dainty shoes- blue with a high heel. It slowly began to drag its body towards Minerva.

Minerva opened her eyes, glancing at the shifting shadows all around her. In a few hours the second day of her trial would begin. In the meantime she was trapped here in a holding cell. She supposed it was a nice holding cell; the bed was comfortable at any rate. However, the fact remained that she – _Minerva McGonagall_ – had been locked away like a common criminal!

Minerva sat up and leaned against the wall, rubbing her chilled arms. She didn't want to go back to sleep. She didn't want to dream again.

It was strange. She hadn't thought of Cathy Lucas in years, despite the fact that Cathy had been part of the reason why she had started work on her theory in the first place. They had been best friends at Hogwarts. Minerva had been the only Pureblood to be sorted into Gryffindor that year. Cathy, Helen, Martha… they'd all been Muggleborns. Despite everything that Cathy did to make her feel included there had been times when Minerva had felt left out. She hadn't understood a lot of what they said or referenced, and sometimes – not often, but sometimes – she resented them for it. Hogwarts was supposed to be _her_ domain, she was the Pureblood, what right did they have to make her feel stupid and unwanted? She had always quickly quashed these thoughts as soon as they came to her. Her father would have been ashamed. Only people like Grindelwald thought such things. His vehement anti-Muggle propaganda and conquest of continental Europe was a frightening topic for Britain's Wizarding community.

Most of the time the four girls had gotten along exceedingly well. They taught her how to apply cosmetics and showed her pictures of the latest fashions from London. Minerva would allow them to put rouge and lipstick on her – it was not like her mother would ever find out – but she always drew the line at their short dresses. She had stared, open-mouthed, the first time they pranced around the dorm in skirts even shorter than the ones that she had seen at the train station only a few years ago. Her mother would think they were wearing their underwear! Not even Minerva had enough nerve to wear one of those flimsy costumes, even if it was just in their dorm. Out of all the girls Cathy had always been the most concerned with her looks. She hated the school uniforms. She said that the long black dresses with their high collars and white aprons were positively old-fashioned and frumpy. Minerva rather liked them; she thought they were modest. But then Minerva had never been concerned about her looks. She was too tall and her face was a little too plain for a girl. On a good day she could be called nice-looking, but she doubted she had ever been pretty. Although her mother bemoaned this fact it had never really bothered Minerva. What did it matter to her if boys thought she was pretty or not? In fact, she'd rather prefer if they stayed away. She had no desire to ever be married and if she was plain then it was all for the better. Cathy, however, had been beautiful. She was positively radiant. Her blonde hair was always curled just right and she had the largest blue eyes that Minerva had ever seen. She was always showing off some new accessory that her parents had sent her. "Do you like them?" She would say, twirling around the dorm in those blue shoes, posing every way so that the candlelight would shine off the patent leather. "My mother got them from Paris. Aren't they just wonderful?" She had worn them to class the next day, making sure that her long skirt would kick up with each step so that everyone would be able to see. Unfortunately their Charms professor had caught sight of them and banned her from class until she had changed out of them.

It was because of Cathy and the other girls that Minerva tried out for Quidditch. Girls were allowed on the teams of course, but only the Muggleborn and Halfblood girls dared to try out and play. It was unseemly that someone of Minerva's status would play such violent games in the presence of boys. Her father had taught her how, though, despite her mother's proclamations banning her from such activities. Sports were the one area where Julius refused to obey his wife. He insisted that both his children were to be strong and active and, most importantly, _competitive_. He taught them to fly and ride horses and swim. Although Julius had never expected – nor wished – for Minerva to do such things in public.

Minerva received a howler from her mother for joining the team. She flushed it down a toilet.

Despite the differences in their personalities, Cathy and Minerva had been almost inseparable, but she left Hogwarts in their fourth year and Minerva had not seen or heard from her since. Minerva supposed that it had all started in her second year. She and Cathy and Martha and Helen would all sit around in their dorm and just talk. Sometimes Minerva would teach them something about the Magical World. Other times the three Muggleborn girls would have long, winding conversations about whatever Muggle topic that had seized their interest at the moment. Minerva would undoubtedly be left out of these conversations, ignored by the other girls; she just didn't understand and she was too proud to constantly ask them to stop and explain. She didn't want to appear ignorant. So, she just sat there and daydreamed or did her homework, catching only bits and pieces. Sometimes she would hear them talk about Germany and some man named Hitler. Later on, Hitler and Germany became a frequent topic of conversation and then Minerva started hearing about Poland and Russia and Stalin.

They had tried to explain it to her. It was a Muggle war, they said. Minerva never really paid much attention; how dangerous could a Muggle war be? They couldn't even cast the _Avada Kedavra_ curse! Hitler was nothing compared to Grindelwald.

It was the first game of her fourth year. Minerva had played brilliantly. She had stopped the Quaffle from entering the hoops every time the Slytherins had gone for a goal. That was almost unheard of! The Slytherins may have gotten the Snitch, but the Gryffindors had won the game. Minerva grinned as she was pulled off her broom by her teammates. Geoffrey and Lysander were swinging in the air, letting her fly up before catching her. They set her back on the ground, dizzy and trying to right her leather skirt, before grabbing Mary, the only other girl on the team and doing the same thing to her. As Minerva wobbled alongside the cheering Gryffindors she noticed that her dorm mates weren't there. They had been at the game, hadn't they?

The rush of Gryffindors swarmed into the common room, ready to begin celebrating, but Minerva pushed her way through the crowd to her room. Helen and Martha were sitting on Cathy's bed, talking in low voices. Her trunk was gone.

Minerva felt all the good cheer leave her body at the sight. "What's going on?" She demanded. "Where's Cathy?"

Helen and Martha exchanged apprehensive looks. "She had to leave," Helen explained gently. "Her sister died."

Minerva sank slowly onto a bed. She had never met Sara – unlike Cathy she was a Muggle – but Cathy had talked about her often. She had absolutely adored the older girl. Sara was young and recently married and had set up house in London. Cathy had said she wanted four children, two boys and two girls. Minerva knew exactly what Cathy was feeling.

"What happened?" She asked.

"It was the Blitz."

"The what?" Minerva asked. "I don't understand."

She soon found out. Minerva, Helen, and Martha had all been granted permission to leave school grounds and attend Sara's funeral. Julius and Georgiana had allowed Helen's parents to take Minerva to London for the services. She had never seen such destruction before. This wasn't the London she knew from only a few years ago. It looked like a wasteland. Buildings had crumbled into themselves and there was rubble strewn everywhere. She saw a swan wander across the broken glass and stone and she wondered from what pond had it escaped from.

The funeral had been closed casket. She heard some of the adults whispering to each other. _Her face had been crushed,_ they said in hushed voices. _And her arms were missing. They tried looking for them, but well… If it hadn't been for those ridiculous shoes her mother had bought her they might not have ever identified the body. It was the blue ones, do you remember? Anna had bought two pairs for both her girls._

Minerva had held Cathy's hand for the entire ceremony, but the other girl didn't even know she was there.

Minerva was pulled from her reverie at the sound of her cell door clanging against the stone. It opened to reveal Albus Dumbledore.

"Good morning," He greeted cheerfully. "I hope I am not disturbing you."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note – Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 4_

Dumbledore sat down next to her on her bed. "So, you've managed to get yourself into quite a bit trouble," he commented with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

Minerva couldn't help but smile back. "I do seem to do that. Completely accidental, of course. I would never cause trouble on purpose!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, of course not."

They were silent for a moment. Minerva could tell that there was something on her old professor's mind, but he was reluctant to say it. He seemed nervous. She wondered why.

"This Muggle that you've been working with…" Dumbledore finally began. "What is his name?"

"Robert Lang."

"And this Robert… is he a handsome young man?" That twinkle was back. Minerva tried to force down the blush that she could feel blossoming across her cheeks.

"I'm sure there are people who think he is handsome," she answered stiffly.

"Yes, yes, quite sure," Dumbledore nodded. "So this was just a working relationship then? The two of you were only testing this theory of yours?"

Minerva felt her face get hotter. "No, not quite," she admitted. "There was some talk about marriage."

Minerva received the full force of Dumbledore's smile. "So, you two are courting! I have to say I am a little surprised. I remember how you never even looked twice at the boys at Hogwarts."

"Well, Robert's _different_," Minerva stated, feeling defensive for some reason.

Dumbledore waved his hand as though the whole thing was inconsequential. "Yes, I'm sure he is. But the point is the two of you have been planning to _marry_. He wasn't just your research partner. The law forbidding Wizarding kind to expose themselves and magic to Muggles does not apply to spouses. That takes care of part of the charges brought against you." The old man trailed off, pondering on his next move.

Minerva was a little surprised and touched at how invested Dumbledore was in her case. She knew that she had been one of his favorite students, but she hadn't realized just how much he cared for her. "But we didn't even set a date," Minerva protested. "It was all just sort of vague. You know, 'we'll talk about it after the war' sort of thing."

Dumbledore gave her a curious look. "I never took you as the overly cautious type. Are you that worried about how the Grindelwald supporters would react to a Pureblood marrying a Muggle? I doubt your parents would be very upset by it and, regardless, you've never bothered with other people's opinions before."

It took Minerva a moment to realize her former professor's mistake. "Oh, no, not _that_ war. Robert wants to wait until after the _Muggle_ war. The Muggle war with Germany."

Dumbledore nodded with only the slightest understanding. Minerva felt the disappointment welling up inside her, although she knew she shouldn't be surprised. Why would he know anything about it? He was a Pureblood and cloistered away at Hogwarts for much of the year. Still, she always thought that Albus Dumbledore was one of the most empathetic men she had ever met. She had just assumed that he would care as deeply about Muggles as she did and know all about the terrible war that has taken so many lives. _Human_ lives, Minerva emphasized in her own mind. It didn't matter if they were Muggle or not, they were still _human_.

"Still, it doesn't matter," Dumbledore insisted. "The fact remains that there were intentions to wed. Now, we need to talk about the other charge, your so-called 'dangerous ideas'." Even Minerva could detect the hint of disgust in her mentor's normally placid voice. The man next to her shook his head. "They are intentionally misreading the purpose that law. That law was created to protect people from vitriolic speech, from people like _Grindelwald_. Not to inhibit magical thought and discussion."

"They seem to believe that giving Muggles any sort of power is dangerous enough," Minerva commented bitterly.

Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Yes, you've made them quite fearful of Muggle science. Troilus Tippwell had quite a collection of Muggle alarm clocks and now I'm afraid he's thrown them all out. They are all worried that Muggles will one day take over the Wizarding World, but are too proud to admit it. They think if Muggles could do magic then it will be the end of the world."

Minerva smirked. "Then I'm afraid the apocalypse has already come and gone. Poor souls didn't even realize it."

At that Dumbledore sobered up and fixed the girl with a curious stare. "Do you mean to say that your theory actually _worked_?"

"Yes," Minerva nodded. Despite the fact that she believed Robert's Disintegration Ray was better off destroyed, she couldn't stop the feeling of pride that welled up within her. She _had_ made a significant magical discovery after all. "Using my theories, Robert was able to create a device that could perform the spell _Evanesco_. Of course, there was no 'magic' involved in his device; although I'm beginning to think that what is 'magic' isn't even magic it's… Professor Dumbledore?" She asked. Dumbledore was looking at her, but not truly seeing her. He had this faraway look in his eyes as though whatever he was thinking worried him.

"Hm?" Dumbledore asked as he shook away his thoughts. "If I may ask, just what exactly happened to this device?"

"I destroyed it," Minerva confessed. "Robert, he… Something happened and I was worried that it would be too much for the Muggles." Minerva took a deep breath as she prepared to reveal to her mentor her deepest thoughts. Since she had left Robert's laboratory she had just been so confused. She needed to tell someone, to explain her actions. Dumbledore had always been so understanding. She knew she could trust him. "Does this make me a hypocrite?" She asked forlornly. "I always believed that Muggles and Wizards were equal. We can do magic, so why shouldn't they? I just… I don't know anymore. I'm so confused. With a flick of my wand I took away the right for Muggles to decide for themselves how they would use this newfound power. Nobody can do that to _us_. Just look at Grindelwald! He couldn't do all those horrible things if he never had magic in the first place! I just- I don't know what's right or wrong anymore."

Dumbledore gave her a sad, knowing smile. "Sometimes there isn't a right or a wrong. Sometimes we just have to do what we think is best at the moment." There was something in his eyes, like he was trying to tell her something. Then it was gone. He patted her hand softly as he stood up. "Get some rest," he advised. "Your trial will resume in a few hours."

Minerva nodded and laid back down on her bed as Dumbledore left. She stared back up at the ceiling and thought of Robert. He _was_ handsome. He had light brown hair and soft eyes, a strong chin. He looked strong and caring and the way he smiled… When she first met him she hadn't even noticed the limp. She never saw his club foot until it was pointed out to her. All she saw was his face.

She first met him when she was sixteen. It was two days into her summer break and her parents were gone somewhere. She had been angry. The day before she left Hogwarts a Hufflepuff boy had called her a Muggle lover. What did it matter if she was? That shouldn't have been an insult, but it was. Ever since Cathy had left Minerva had been obsessed with the Muggle war. She spoke to everyone and anyone who stood still long enough about the utter devastation that Hitler was causing all over Europe, but no one – no one other than the Muggleborns that is – seemed to care very much at all. She wrote articles to _The Daily Prophet_, urging them to repel the law that separated the Muggle World and the Wizarding World and to use their magic to help the Muggles. She just wanted to help. Why weren't they allowed to help? Her articles were never printed, however. She had received a few letters from _The Daily Prophet_ asking her to stop sending in her articles, stating that wizards and witches simply didn't want to read about the Muggle War. After all, it didn't have anything to do with _them_.

That day Minerva had been musing on her lack of knowledge on Muggles. She had been kept so far away from the Muggle World and she just wanted to know _why_. Everyone kept insisting that they were weak and powerless compared to a witch or wizard, so why then should it matter if Minerva interacted with them? In a huff Minerva had made her decision. She didn't care about her mother's fears she was going to go out and meet real Muggles! Minerva snatched up her broom and took off, heading towards Edinburgh.

Just outside the city she landed, shrunk her broom, and put it inside her purse, walking the rest of the way. When she entered the city she found herself feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what she should do. It was all so strange and unfamiliar. So different. Although Sara's funeral had been a Muggle affair, Minerva hadn't really interracted with any of the Muggles there. They were mostly adults and so ignored the children. Plus, she had Helen and Martha with her to help explain some of the things she hadn't understood. Here the Muggles all seemed to know where they were going and they kept throwing her confused glances. It was obvious that she didn't belong; every time they looked at her she felt awkward and out of place.

Then she ran into him.

"Is there some end-of-term fancy dress party that I don't know about?" A girl had called out to her. She was standing next to a man by the street corner, as though they were waiting for someone. Minerva noticed right away that the man was very handsome.

Minerva wanted to snidely ask back if there was some party at a gentleman's club that she didn't know about. Minerva may have stuck out with her high collar and bustle but at least her dress was a _proper_ length! "No," Minerva curtly replied. "This is just how I dress."

The girl had laughed. "I think my grandmother has that exact same dress! Are you wearing a corset underneath that? Did you lose a bet?"

The boy nudged her a little. "Hey, lay off the girl. I think it's pretty bold. Not many people can don a Victorian bustle and look good in it. So, are you a freshman at the university?" He asked.

Minerva had wanted to ask what university he was referring to, but she didn't want to sound ignorant. "Oh, not yet," Minerva commented as though she knew what she was talking about. "I'm thinking about enrolling next year."

"About to start your last year of secondary, then?" He asked with a nod. "Well, I can guarantee you'll love it. I'll be a sophomore next year. My name's Robert Lang." He held out his hand and Minerva shook it. "I'm studying physics."

"Physics!" The girl said with a pout. "All those maths! I couldn't do it."

Robert shook his head. "Physics is _important_."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't your first choice, was it?" The girl asked. "Didn't you want to be a fighter pilot?"

Robert flushed a horrible shade of red and looked down at his feet. "Yeah, well, they wouldn't exactly take me, would they?" He snapped and not just a little bitterly. "Not with… you know… my foot," he said, lifting his foot up just a little. Then Minerva saw it. His shoes were two different sizes and even with his trousers partially hiding his feet and legs Minerva could see that the left one was horribly misshapen. "They won't let me fight the Germans with this."

Robert looked terribly embarrassed by the whole thing. Minerva felt her heart go out to him. "Physics?" She asked, hoping to draw the conversation back to a topic that was more comfortable for him.

The girl groaned with a roll of her eyes. "Oh, no, here we go," she mumbled. Minerva was about to ask her what she meant by that but was cut off by Robert. He immediately launched into an ethusiastic explanation of particles and atoms and theories. The girl was obviously bored, but Minerva enjoyed every second of it. It was a strange subject but she found herself absolutely fascinated by it. Robert promised that physics was the key to understanding the universe and if there was one thing that Minerva loved it was knowledge. They talked for hours, barely noticing when the other girl left, until the sun began to set.

"I've got to go!" Minerva exclaimed, just realizing the time. She had to get back before her parents did. Robert nodded in understanding.

"Maybe you could give me your address?" He asked shyly. "We could write to each other. I mean, I'd like to write to you."

For a moment Minerva bit her lip. Her home was hidden from Muggles. There would be no way for the letter to reach her. Unless… "Give me your address," she commanded. "I'll write you."

Robert smiled. "Okay."

It took a week before Minerva got to courage to send him a letter. When Bedivere, her barn owl, returned there was a response from Robert attached to his leg. It was not a disappointment.

_Dear Minerva,_

_I received your letter. I am a little unsure of what to make of the owl, however._

That was the way it had begun. Minerva had laughed when she read that. She made up some wild story of her parents being eccentrics and training owls like messenger pigeons. She doubted Robert truly believed that, but what other explanation could there have been? They wrote each other for months before she finally told him she was a witch. She was out for Easter holidays and met up with him in Edinburgh. She had been so nervous. What if he grew afraid or was repulsed? Did Muggles still believed that witchcraft was the work of Satan or had that ended in the Middle Ages? To her surprise when she finally confessed the truth to him he had actually seemed _relieved_. "To be honest," he said. "Everything makes a _lot_ more sense now."

Then he kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note – The end quote comes from Olaf Stapledon's science fiction novel _Odd John_.

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 5_

"Tell us about this Muggle assistant of yours, this Mr. Robert Lang of Edinburgh."

Minerva looked up at the Chief Warlock with an unimpressed, unflinching gaze. The same look her mother would always give when she found something to be exceedingly coarse and barbaric. The shock of yesterday had worn off leaving Minerva to feel angry and indignant at this mockery of a trial. She had been expecting this question and had prepared for it. She'd be damned if she'd let any harm come to Robert.

"He is my fiancé," Minerva replied calmly, remembering her conversation with Dumbledore. There were some murmurings at that. Minerva searched the Wizengamot for her former mentor's face but she couldn't find him. He wasn't there.

"Just your fiancé?" The Chief Warlock prompted. "There is evidence here indicating that he helped you develop your current… 'theory'."

Minerva shrugged, trying to appear for all the world nonchalant and carefree. "He supported me, both morally and financially, but my work is my own."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Minerva received no help from Robert in developing her theory; she just neglected to inform the Wizengamot what _Robert_ had done with her equations. Minerva vaguely wondered if such a tactic would work if they asked her to take _Veritaserum_.

"Please explain more thoroughly to the court your relationship with Mr. Lang. Where and how did you meet this Muggle man and how did your relationship progress?" Came the command.

So she did. She told this sea of uncaring men her chance encounter with him in Edinburgh, the letters they wrote, her fascination with his science. Robert recommended books upon books on the subject and Minerva read voraciously. She read books on Isaac Newton, James Clerk Maxwell, Nikola Tesla, and Albert Einstein. It was all so strange to her; she never really understood _why_ Muggles were so limited. _Why_ were Muggles restricted to these so-called laws of the universe? She had never encountered them before. Oh, she had heard of things like 'electricity' and 'gravity' before; she knew since she was little that if she threw something into the air it would fall back down. But she also knew that it didn't _have_ to be that way. If she wanted she could make something remain suspended in the air indefinitely. She had no such limitations.

Minerva couldn't stop thinking _why_. Her teachers, even the great Albus Dumbledore who she had always looked up to since she was a first year, were of no help to her. "It's magic," they would say and that was that. But _how_ did magic work? _Why_ did it work?

Then she began to experiment.

After she confessed to Robert that she was a witch she told him of the experiment she was conducting. He enthusiastically agreed to help her – he too was excited about what she might discover – until she told him what she needed. He was rather reluctant to give her his torch to use in an experiment, but in the end his own curiosity won out over the object's sentimental value. She also convinced him to get her a small Muggle music box and a Tilley lamp. All three utilized different Muggle technologies. Everyone knew that Muggle objects would not work in an area that had a high concentration of magic but no one could tell her _why_. It was time to find out.

She had been back at Hogwarts for an entire week before she found herself alone in her room. The other girls had gone off somewhere; they had given up on trying to convince Minerva to join them in anything that did not involve school or Quidditch. Matches and classes were about the only thing that could drag her away from her research by this point in time. She knew the others were worried about her, even the teachers had expressed their concern, but she couldn't give up. She felt like she was just on the edge of understanding. A little more research, a little more experimentation, and she would just _know_.

Alone in her room she laid out the objects. Hogwarts was probably the single most magical place in all of Britain. If magic would have any adverse effects on the Muggle items then the best place to experiment was in the school. Minerva knew for a fact that, at the very least, certain hydropower technology could run just fine in a high magical area. Otherwise the students would all be using outhouses. Now it was time to test other forms of energy: mechanical, combustion, and electricity. Minerva picked up the music box and wound it up. The little mechanical instrument played fine. As the sweet tinkling filled the room Minerva flipped the switch on the Tilley lamp. At first it glowed a soft yellow but after about thirty seconds it filled the room with a bright white light. Just as it should have. Next was the torch. Minerva picked it up and pushed the switch.

The next thing Minerva knew she was lying on her back and in _pain_. A horrible acrid smell had filled the room and with a jolt Minerva sat up and saw there was a small fire where the torch had once been. She scrambled quickly for her wand and in a second the fire was out with a simple _Aguamenti_ spell. Minerva crawled over to the black and ruined torch. Robert would not be happy. The moment she had turned on the light it had sparked wildly. At least she now knew that magic and electricity were incompatible.

With a sigh Minerva levitated the objects, including the ruined torch, back into her trunk and not a moment too soon. The door opened to reveal the other girls, who stood stock still in the doorway, gaping at Minerva.

"What?" Minerva snapped irritably.

"Minerva… your _hair_," Helen meekly replied, pointing at her friend's head. "You look like you've just been struck by lightning!"

Minerva dashed to a mirror and saw that her long, black hair was standing in all directions, frizzed and out of control. As she pulled at the fried ends of her hair Minerva suddenly realized that the torch didn't break because electricity and magic were incompatible, but because they were the _exact same thing_. The batteries inside the torch had simply overloaded with too much power.

Over the course of the next two months Minerva developed her treatise on the idea that wizards and witches were essentially living electromagnetic conductors. They worked in the same way that a battery worked, generating power to manipulate the atoms around them, enough to where they would be able to alter the way the physical world should work. She had yet to discover exactly how or why, but the basic theory was there. She wrote her treatise and sent it to _Transfiguration Journal_, where it was published by the end of May.

After that everything changed.

She remembered walking into the Great Hall after her article had been published and having everyone turn to _look_ at her. Whispers immediately erupted amongst the tables and she heard a few spat out "Muggle lover." She didn't understand what she had done wrong. All she had stated was that magic was not, well… _magical_. That there could be a scientific explanation to the phenomenon. Was that really such a terrible thing? Apparently it was because after that everyone gave her the cold shoulder. Hardly anyone talked to her. Even the teachers! Except for Albus Dumbledore, of course. He had actually seemed amused by her article and praised her on thinking outside of the box.

But it was Helen and Martha's reactions that surprised her the most. She had thought that as Muggleborns they would be fascinated by Minerva's theory, but they weren't. They, like everyone else, refused to talk to her.

Minerva pushed open their door, feeling a hint of satisfaction when the wood reverberated against the stone. "Why are you ignoring me?" Minerva demanded, hands on her hips. "What exactly have I done wrong?"

The two girls looked up from their reading, cold expressions mirrored on their faces. "You always ruin everything, _Minnie_," Helen snapped. Minerva ground her teeth at the sound of the infantile nickname. They knew she hated to be called that. "Why did you have to go and ruin magic too?"

Minerva threw her hands up, exasperated. "How did I 'ruin' magic?" She asked. The entire thing was too confusing. What were they on about?

Martha and Helen jumped up and gathered their books. "Because magic made us special!" Helen barked out. "Back home we were nothing! Just two girls who would one day grow up, get married, have a couple kids, and that's it. That was our life. But here we had power! We can do anything! What's the point if Muggles can do it too?"

Minerva was so shocked by Helen's speech that she let them slip by and out the door. Was that what this was all about? Power? She had always thought that Helen and Martha were sweet and kind and empathetic. Why would they want to have power over someone else? Did everyone feel like that? Was it normal? She wondered if they even realized just what they sounded like.

Minerva wandered out of the castle and sat down by the lake, lost in her thoughts. She didn't even notice the sound of footsteps coming closer.

"I read your article. It was interesting, although I can't say I agree with it."

With a slight jump Minerva turned to see a Slytherin boy sitting next to her. He was a prefect and maybe a year or two younger than she. He noticed the confusion in her eyes and held out his hand and smiled at her. He didn't look very sincere; his face made all the right arrangements, forcing itself to look happy, but there something off about him. Maybe it was his eyes. Minerva hesitantly took his hand and shook it anyway.

"Tom Riddle," the boy supplied.

"What do you want?" Minerva demanded. She didn't like him. He made her feel nervous, nevermind that he was a Slytherin.

Riddle shrugged. "Just to talk. Why did you write that article?"

"Why not? It's a legitimate theory and it can only advance Wizarding society."

"It could advance Muggle society too," he answered.

"So?" Minerva snapped. "Is that so bad?"

"Yes," Riddle stated simply. "You of all people should know what Muggles are capable of. Aren't you the girl who's constantly going on about that Muggle war of theirs? Don't you know what the Nazis are doing in Europe? Haven't you heard about the concentration camps?"

Minerva looked away and shrugged. She had heard. "The Wizarding World has done terrible things as well. Just look at Grindelwald-"

"Grindelwald is the best thing to have happened to Muggles," Riddle interrupted. "They need to be controlled. They're like children. Can you imagine what they would do if they got their hands on magic? They'd destroy the world in a week."

"How do you know Grindelwald isn't behind the Muggle war as well?" Minerva retorted. "He hates Muggles. He wants to see them destroyed."

Riddle gave her a condescending smirk. "McGonagall," he drawled out. "Do you think he put every Nazi under the Imperius? Do you think he really cares enough about them to stage such an elaborate trick when he could simply use the _Avada Kedavra_ and kill them all? No muss, no fuss, no gas. No one is making them do anything. The Muggles are simply wild, violent animals."

With a huff Minerva got up and stormed off. For the rest of the year she noticed the other boy shooting her sly smirks. She tried to ignore him but every time his eyes fell on her she'd shiver with cold.

* * *

><p>At the end of June Minerva found herself back at Blackmore Castle. She had graduated. She had done what she was supposed to do, what a proper Pureblood girl was required of, so now what? She hadn't a clue.<p>

Her parents had the answer, of course. They had avoided mentioning 'The Article' like it was some frightening taboo. Minerva belatedly realized just what kind of difficult position they must be in. Her theory had sparked a controversial and divisive debate and her parents had been caught in the crossfire. She wondered just what sort of grief and harassment they had received at the hands of their so-called friends.

"I've sent the invitations out," Georgiana stated as Minerva unpacked her things for the last time. "And I've gone ahead and sent your measurements to the dressmaker. Your gown will be ready by tomorrow evening, I have everything taken care of."

Minerva looked up from her trunk, her expression conveying her annoyance and confusion. "What are you talking about?" She demanded.

"You're formal introduction to society, of course," her mother replied, surprised at her own daughter's obliviousness. "I know you're not a… _typical_ young lady," Georgiana said delicately. "But this party will give you the chance to meet several eligible young men."

Robert's face immediately floated through Minerva's mind. "I don't particularly want to meet any 'eligible young men'. I was thinking of devoting my time to my theories."

Georgiana blanched at the suggestion. "Minerva, this is important. I don't think you realize the implications of your actions. You caused quite a stir. Not everybody is pleased. I think it would be better for you if you were to find a nice young man to settle down with. Someone from our circle, with ambition, who would be able to bridge the gap that you created, so to speak."

Minerva sat there, stock still for a moment. "You want me to get married just so I can get in good with a bunch of bigoted Muggle haters?" Minerva asked. She felt the blood rising to her face. "You and Father always told me that everyone was equal whether they could do magic or not! Are you saying that all that was a lie?"

Georgiana sighed and shook her head. She looked old for some reason. That was impossible. Her mother was young and healthy. "Minerva… Your father and I didn't want to say anything, but you've put us all in quite a predicament. We've received some letters," her hands fluttered delicately in the air. "They were rather threatening."

Minerva swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She couldn't believe it. Someone had threatened her parents? "What? What happened? What did they say?"

Georgiana shook her head as she stood up. "It doesn't matter. Minerva just… just behave for once in your life, please? For our sake? Be a good girl, Minerva." She walked away, leaving Minerva alone in her room.

The party was nothing like Georgiana had expected. Hardly anyone came to Minerva's grand coming out. There were a few young gentlemen there, but none from the old Scottish Pureblood families that Georgiana had been hoping for. Only Muggleborns and Halfbloods, anxious to rise through the ranks of Wizarding society and willing to marry the social pariah Minerva McGonagall to do it. After all, even a outcaste like Minerva was still a Pureblood. Dinner was an awkward affair. Minerva could tell that her mother wanted to go into the other room and have a good cry, but she forced a smile and soldiered on. The moment dinner was over Julius retreated to the men's smoking room a little more quickly than usual. Minerva wished she could join him. She felt like she was on parade, like some animal at the country fair waiting to be appraised and sold to the highest bidder. And with such a slim number of interested suitors… it made her feel desperate and unwanted.

After dinner everyone – with the exception of Julius who was probably fast asleep in his chair by then – congregated to the ballroom where the band began to play. No one bothered to dance, however; it was simply too awkward and embarrassing for such a small number of people. "Minerva, I'd like for you to meet Cornelius Fudge," Georgiana guided her daughter to the young man standing stiffly to the side. Minerva nodded politely to him. She had seen him at Hogwarts. He had been a Hufflepuff and a year ahead of her. "He's going to have a wonderful career in politics, I can tell. You're working for the Minister of Magic as his secretary, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cornelius stated with a nod and a shy smile.

Georgiana waited for a moment. It was time for Cornelius to say something. Pose some question or elaborate on the work he did, just _something_. It was the polite thing to do. But he just smiled and nodded again and said nothing. Minerva could see the corners of her mother's eyes tighten. "Mother, why don't you ask Tini to bring the coffee?" Minerva asked. "I'm sure the guests are ready for a refreshment." All six of them.

Thankful for the excuse to leave, Georgiana wandered off, leaving Minerva and Cornelius alone. "So, why are you here?" Minerva inquired, getting straight to the point.

Cornelius looked startled. "To congratulate you on your graduation?" He supplied.

Minerva shook her head. "No, Mr. Fudge. Why are _you_ here? You don't know me. We've never met before. Were you hoping to find a wife tonight, Mr. Fudge? One with a good name and a large inheritance?"

Cornelius opened his mouth, but Minerva cut him off before he could stutter out his protest. "You heard about the article I wrote, didn't you? I've become an outcast. I'm afraid having me on your arm will not help you advance your career."

Cornelius's mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say, his face flushed red from embarrassment. Minerva narrowed her eyes as the man continued to flounder. Without another word she spun on her heel and walked away. She went into her room, packed her trunk and wrote a hasty letter to her mother and father, telling them not to worry but giving them no details on where she was going. She couldn't stay in the Wizarding World any longer. She needed to be free of it. She managed to avoid her mother on her way to the foyer, pausing to shrink her trunk and place it in the pocket of her cloak.

"Wait! Minerva!"

Minerva looked up to see round-faced Cornelius hurry towards her. "It wasn't… I didn't think…" He stuttered. He shrugged and looked down at his feet. "I saw you at school but I was too shy to talk to you." He looked back up at her. "I came because I just thought you were interesting."

Minerva gave him a weak smile. She turned around and left.

* * *

><p>"Minerva, what are you doing here?"<p>

Minerva stood there in the doorway of Robert's flat still in her lace and silk ball gown and cloak. "I've left home," she stated simply. "Can I stay with you?"

"Of course," he answered, gesturing for her to come inside. "My landlady won't like it though. She'll give us dirty looks."

"I'm used to it." Minerva leaned up and kissed him.

Later that night as they laid in bed, Minerva half-listened to the sound of Robert's voice as she rested her head against his chest, soothed by the soft beating of his heart. Robert read aloud from one of his Muggle books, his soft murmurings lulling Minerva to sleep.

"When I told John that I intended to write his biography, he laughed. 'My dear man!' he said, 'But of course it was inevitable.' The word 'man' on John's lips was often equivalent to 'fool'.

'Well,' I protested. 'A cat may look at a king.'

He replied, 'Yes, but can it really see a king? Can you, puss, really see me?'"

Minerva was asleep before he had finished the first page.


	6. Chapter 6

**Where Angels Fear to Tread**

_Chapter 6_

The Chief Warlock looked down at Minerva, displeasure written all over his face. "We have only one last question for you: did your experimentations prove your theory correct?"

Minerva glanced over at her former teacher as Dumbledore quietly entered the room and took his seat. He had finally returned from wherever he had disappeared to. He didn't bother to look at Minerva. The young woman took a deep breath and focused her gaze back towards the Chief Warlock. This was it. Every fiber of her being balked against the lie she was about to tell. She was so proud of her work.

But she didn't want to be the cause of any more violence.

"No," Minerva answered.

Robert had encouraged Minerva in developing her theory. He had been fascinated with how the laws of physics related to magic and was in complete awe of her power. He had wanted to know how it worked as much as Minerva did. Minerva had had no idea that he was working on something too until one day he decided to surprise her.

He took her by the hand and holding his cane in the other he led her through Edinburgh, limping down the streets. They came to a friend's house, a fellow student at the university. It was a rather large and grand townhouse – nowhere near as fine as her own childhood home, but a respectable, if a little ostentatious, residence at any rate – that belonged to his friend's parents. They had given the two boys permission to convert one of the spare rooms into a laboratory to conduct their experiments. It had every amenity available to the two, bought for them by the parents of the young man no doubt. He took her to the laboratory, set his cane on one of the desks, and opened the safe to reveal the strange gun-like contraption.

"I call it a Disintegration Ray," he stated proudly. "You remember me telling you about those, right? They're a common device in science fiction."

"Hmm," Minerva vaguely replied. Robert sometimes read to her aloud from his collection of cheap, pulp novels, but she wouldn't say that she actually bothered to pay attention to them. It wasn't as though they were considered great literature. At least, she _hoped_ Muggles didn't consider those penny dreadfuls to be great works of literature. "What does a… Disintegration Ray do again?"

Robert grinned at her. "Exactly the same thing that spell of yours does. _Evanesco_, right? It pulls apart the individual atoms that make up an object, absorbing the excess energy and radiation, until there's nothing left. Here, watch."

Robert lifted the device and pointed it at a pencil left lying on one of the desks. He squeezed the trigger and a ray of light shot out. Within seconds the pencil was gone. Minerva stood there in amazement. Her theory… it _worked_! All she could do was stand there and gape.

"Isn't it great, Minerva?" Robert beamed. "I admit that I was unsure that I would be able to duplicate your magic – not without severe repercussions at any rate – but it worked! Just think: your theory could change the entire world! This device… it will save _millions_ of lives. With this Britain will win the war!"

Minerva blinked rapidly as her brain caught up with what Robert was saying. She grinned and nodded enthusiastically at his plans. She could use her work to help the Muggle World! All the pain and fear that the Muggles were forced to suffer through would be gone! "We could Vanish entire factories! The Germans can't win a war if they can't produce the technology!"

"That's right! Hell, they won't be able to win a war if they haven't got any _soldiers_!"

Minerva felt an icy chill run through her at that. She cocked her head, looking up at Robert. "I don't understand. You mean… Vanish _people_?"

Robert shrugged. "Of course. This is war."

"But…" Minerva shook her head, trying to understand her lover. "With this power you don't _have_ to kill anyone! They'll be helpless against a device like this!"

"Minerva, they're _Nazis_. They don't deserve our sympathy."

"But they're still people!" Minerva admonished. "I don't want my work to cause the deaths of thousands of people!"

"Don't you understand? We'll be _saving_ lives!"

"And destroying others!"

Suddenly Minerva found herself back inside the Ministry chamber. She pushed the memories away as the Chief Warlock once more focused his attention on her.

"We have deliberated on this matter and we have decided that all charges have been dismissed. The Wizengamot feels…"

Minerva couldn't hear the rest. All the tension of the past two days fled her body and she felt her knees begin to shake. She remained standing tall and straight, however. She didn't want to show them just how worried she had been. As the members of the council began to file out Minerva was seized with a desire to see Robert. She wondered if he was worried about her. She had left so suddenly. Would he be angry with her? He would know by now that his device and everything that he had worked on was gone. With her missing it would be logical to conclude that she had something to do with the device's destruction. It didn't matter. She needed to see him. She needed to explain.

As soon as she was outside of the chamber she Apparated to Edinburgh.

* * *

><p>Minerva rushed up the steps towards the little flat that sat above the butcher's shop. The moment she reached the door she saw it open to reveal Robert's handsome face.<p>

"Robert!" She gasped, her hand still poised above the door handle.

Robert pulled back in surprise. "Oh! I'm sorry if I startled you. I was just on my way out," he said as a way of explanation.

Minerva frowned in confusion. "Didn't you… didn't you notice I was gone?" She asked. He was acting so nonchalant. She expected… she expected _something_. Joy, anger, disappointment… anything other than this polite indifference.

Robert gave her a strange look. "I don't understand. Gone from where? Look, do I know you? Are you a student from the university?"

Minerva opened her mouth but no sound came out. He didn't know who she was. Why didn't he know her? "Oh," she whispered. It came to her like an epiphany. She really should have realized it sooner. "I… I'm very sorry, I… I've got the wrong address." Her voice sounded very hoarse and she turned away, shakily making her way down the steps.

Robert reached out to grab her arm. "Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone for you?" He asked, the concern evident in his voice.

Minerva slipped out of his grasp and walked off without saying another word. She couldn't look at him. She was afraid she would start to cry if she looked at him. She stumbled into the alley, blindly trying to find her way out.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you before, but you left in such a hurry."

Minerva slowly turned around to face Albus Dumbledore. If she was in a generous mood she might have recognized the pained expression of resignation and sympathy. She found that she really didn't care about what _he_ was feeling at the moment.

"I wouldn't have done it if the device hadn't worked," Dumbledore explained. "I believe I Obliviated most of his friends and acquaintances– those that would know about _you_." He took a step towards her. "Minerva, this was for the best. You cannot simply give someone that sort of power and then take it away; he never would have been satisfied. You, yourself, stated that you didn't think the Muggles should have this sort of power. He was a smart lad; he did it once, he would have been able to figure it out how to make that machine again." He took another half-step. "I understand what you are feeling, to lose someone that you-"

Minerva Apparated away before he could finish his sentence.

* * *

><p>Minerva looked out onto the lake. Merlin, she hated this place.<p>

With a heave she used the oar to push herself away from the bank and began to row towards its center.

Since the trial life had taken on a boring, predictable routine. She had become the dutiful daughter that her mother had always wanted. She stayed at home and helped her mother host her little parties, discussed polite topics when one of her suitors came to visit, and kept her opinions to herself. After all what else was she going to do? Go into magical research? She would be laughed out of the academic community. It was too bad Georgiana seemed rather put-off and uneasy by this unexpected change. Minerva could tell she was worried about her, but she knew Georgiana would never question it. Her mother was finally able to keep her last remaining child with her at all times, safe and secure under her ever watchful eyes.

She and Georgiana had gone to Diagon Alley the other day and on a whim Minerva had decided to visit Muggle London while her mother was outfitted with a new robe. The moment she entered she was immediately bombarded with the news: the United States had dropped the atomic bomb on a city called Hiroshima. Germany had already been defeated and everyone was now predicting when Japan would surrender as well. It was bewildering; she had not kept up with the Muggle war since the trial, having been too caught up in news of Dumbledore's triumph over Grindelwald.

Minerva rowed harder, feeling the burn beginning to creep into her shoulders. It had been a while since she had done something this physical. She wasn't Gryffindor's champion Quidditch player anymore.

She heard the stories about the devastation the bomb had caused. With a bomb like that she doubted even the Wizarding population of that city had survived. She supposed she should feel gratified that she had chosen 'correctly.' Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't destroyed Robert's device. She gripped the oars tighter. That was the point wasn't it? No one _would_ know what would have happened. Maybe it was for the best, maybe it wasn't.

Minerva let her arms fall as she came to the center of the lake. She leaned over and looked down at the murky water. William's body had been buried in the McGonagall family plot, but she always felt that his soul had remained here.

She didn't really remember her older brother. He had died when she was seven. Everyone told her that she had followed him around like a lost puppy and that she had worshipped the ground he walked on. Minerva couldn't really say if that was true or not. She couldn't even remember what he looked like; all she knew was what she saw in photographs. He looked a lot like her.

She thought she might have remembered the day he died, although she couldn't be sure if it was a memory or just a dream. He was seventeen and had just graduated from Hogwarts. They had been born ten years apart; Minerva's arrival had been _quite_ a surprise for her parents after all that time. She had heard that he was witty and handsome and smart from various relatives, although she didn't know how much of that was true and how much of it was said in kindness of the dead. She didn't know why he came to the lake that day or what had happened. When she was younger she had racked her brain, trying to figure out what sort of accident could have occurred that an accomplished wizard like her brother couldn't escape from. She never did think anything.

Minerva did find out many years later that on the day after William's death one of his old roommate's committed suicide.

Minerva tried to call up that half-forgotten memory. She thought she had been standing there on the shore, waving as he rowed off. She waited for him that day by the bank, playing with the rocks until he came back. She must have waited for hours and hours.

"William?" She called out softly. She felt stupid for doing this. William wasn't a ghost and he most certainly wasn't haunting the lake of all places. No one came out here so there wouldn't be much reason to haunt it, now would there? "If you're here… I need your help. I don't know what I should do anymore… Everything that I have ever wanted has been taken away…. What's left for me now?"

Of course there was nothing, just the sound of the water gently lapping against the sides of the boat. Minerva frowned at her blurry reflection and picked up the oars. She rowed back to the shore feeling just as lost and empty.

She saw her mother before the older woman saw her. As Minerva pulled up towards the bank Georgiana jumped up from where she had been sitting on the ground; her new, elegant robe now filthy from the mud. Georgiana latched onto her daughter's arm, helping her out of the boat. Minerva could feel her shaking slightly.

Georgiana gave a slight, hesitant laugh. It sounded horribly fake. "I thought you…" She trailed off, still holding on tightly as they made their way back to Blackmore. Georgiana took a shaky breath and gave Minerva a wan smile.

After a while, Georgiana tried again. "I wanted to tell you, your father has been speaking with a friend who lives abroad in Austria," she began, as though nothing had happened. Minerva nodded, keeping up the pretense for Georgiana's sake. "They're trying to rebuild now that Grindelwald has been defeated and they want to start a school for young witches. They are looking for teachers and since you're so brilliant at Transfiguration I thought you might be interested. Teaching is a very respectable occupation for a young, unmarried witch. Mind you, it will most likely only be temporary, not to mention difficult. If you would rather stay here that will suit your father and I just fine."

Minerva smiled down at her mother. Yes, she supposed teaching wouldn't be _too_ bad, as long as she would be able to help.

**Fin**


End file.
